EGIL’S MEN Thordis for Egil!
ARFI’S MEN Thordis for Arfi!
INGIMUND Peace! Heaven’s omen still is dark, and Odin’s sign Ambiguous. Not one, but four of us, His hand hath stricken. Wherefore thus I read His riddle: Thordis shall herself decide.
THORDIS Father, not I!
INGIMUND This ancient feud must end. These two have sworn to abide by Odin’s will; His will it is that thou make choice of them. Hearken their pleas, and choose.
THORDIS To one must I Give pain?
INGIMUND To one give joy. Speak, Arfi.
ARFI Lady, That those who love are blind I pray be so That, loving, so you may behold me not— What thing I seem, but only hear my voice— What truth I am. Thordis, even now I dreamed A dream more high and awful than the clouds And breathless peaks afire of poesie: We stood together on the morning’s brink; Crater and frozen cliff and snowy scar Hung, avalanche on avalanche, below, Below them still,—the world! You spoke to me; Sweeter than measures of imagined song Before the harp is struck, your voice! “Listen!” you said; And echoing from scar and crater rose The clanging of a chain. You clung to me; You clung to me and spoke not.—I have done.
INGIMUND Egil!
[Springing forward, Egil seizes Thordis’s hand, which he raises to his lips.]